The Only Thing I Ever Knew
by TheQueenAndHerSwan
Summary: I can't imagine any other childhood.


I can't imagine having a different childhood; being abused is all I know. Cora was a cruel mother from the moment I was able to walk, perhaps even before that, but I cannot remember such times. Stories told by my father said she wouldn't even nurse me as a baby, she hired a young mother because she didn't want an infant ruining her physical image more than I already had. She was upset that I was born a girl, she wanted a boy more than anything, but there were complications during my birth, and I ruined that option for her. My father says that she just accepted that she would never have a son, but Cora told me otherwise. She reminded me every time when I was younger that I would never live up to her expectations and that I was always a disappointment. She never laid a hand on me until I was five years old.

The day of my fifth birthday a ball was to be held to celebrate the Princess' birthday, but I didn't want to attend. My father and I had planted an apple tree sapling in the secret garden the previous day, and I wanted to go and watch it grow. My father smiled the whole afternoon as we planted the tree and tended to the ground around it, and when we were finished, I was consequently covered in dirt. It was in my dress, under my finger nails, and it caked my shoes - mother was not happy because of this. She sent me to the washroom where I was scrubbed and dunked under the water mercilessly by her strong hand, and cleansed of any dirt that might remain. I was given orders to go to bed without dinner, and when I started to argue, she used magic to send me to my room and locked the doors. I could hear yelling down the hall as she and my father argued, tears ran down my face as my father got in trouble for my mess. I didn't want him to get yelled at, it was all my fault I was playing in the mud. The yelling seemed to go on for hours and eventually I fell asleep pressed up against the wall next to the door, clothed in what my mother thought was proper dress, dried tears down my cheeks.

The night of the ball was worse than any party I had been forced to endure before. I was sat in a chair for the entire morning after my small breakfast, while servants were ordered around by Cora. She sent in people to cut and do my nails, hair, and to even make sure my shoes would feet perfectly on my feet for that evening. Cora sat in a chair next to the fireplace while over looking the orchestrations, eyes never wavering. After the third hour of sitting still, I began to fidget. I had only turned five, I thought it was quite impressive that I had been able to keep still for that long, but I was apparently mistaken. Cora ordered the servants to the hall and to wait for further instruction while she dealt with me. I stiffened up knowing that every time I got in trouble she yelled at me, really loudly. I didn't, and still don't, like yelling. It's far too scary and doesn't make me feel good at all, but everything changed this time.

I was trying to explain to my mommy that I couldn't sit still any longer, I was beginning to bore, but she wouldn't listen. Cora picked me up by my hair, which was just styled, and ripped me out of my seat. She pulled on my hair so hard I thought it was going to come out of my head. Next, was the yelling; I was an incompetent daughter, not worth to even be getting ready for a ball, and didn't even deserve to be sitting on a chair so expensive. I started to cry, her hold on my hair more painful than I could have ever thought, and I tried everything I could to get away. I wanted my daddy, he always made things better. I don't remember crying out for him, but the next thing I knew Cora was slapping me across my face with her free hand and telling me that he wasn't going to be able to help me anymore.

I screamed at her to let me go, to leave me alone, but nothing worked. Cora grew tired of my fighting and let go of my hair, and I thought I was free, I thought I was safe, but I was sadly mistaken. Within a blink of an eye I was flung to the closest wall with magic, knocking down a painting which landed with a loud thud on the floor. She held me against the cold rocks with invisible bonds and got close to my face. I could smell the perfume she used everyday and it started to make me sick. I didn't want her as my mother, she never loved me, and I didn't know it could get worse than her yelling at me. She conjured a whip in her hand, like the ones she used to train horses, and snapped it against my skin.

The tears started to run out at this point but I couldn't stop whimpering with every time she hit my body. She described in detail as to how much of a disappointment I was at only five years old and how she was planning to train me to be the perfect queen. She wanted me to marry rich and become a powerful ruler who would gain access to all surrounding lands, only to report back to her on instructions. The whip hit only my torso and upper thighs, tearing through my thin shift, and only marking where the scars wouldn't be seen whilst I was wearing clothes. I remember this moment so clearly, and every moment for the next few days, because every time I would do something she didn't like, a similar punishment would follow suit. I began to get nightmares more frequently than before, and was permitted less and less to see my father. He was sent away for a month to deal with a military problem, as he described, but I think he was forced away by my mother so she could punish me more often.

After a week of the whip I began to get so sore that I had trouble walking. Cora saw this one day when I arrived at dinner, and I was instructed to go wait in my room on the chair next to the vanity. This was the chair my mother always sat me in before I was hit. I waited for nearly an hour before she showed up, I hadn't moved an inch in her absence because I knew she was watching - she was always watching. Cora ordered me to undo my dress and to stand up. I did as I was told, stepping out of dress only to reside in a thin pair of panties, my skin bubbling and rising against the cold air. I waited for the magic to throw me against the wall and for more pain to surface, but it never came. Closing my eyes I waited for what I thought was inevitable, but was pleased to feel a small surge of magic around me as the scars she had whipped upon me healed and disappeared. This was the first time she had ever fixed the marks she left upon my body. Her magic raised me in the air to level with her eyes, and I could see the magic swirling in her irises.

She whispered to me that this was just the beginning of what she was planning to do to me. Cora told stories of how she planned to beat me into listening, only to leave the marks and welts for a few days as a reminder, and would magic them away when she thought I had learnt my lesson. I made a promise right then and there, as a five year old, to grow up to be the most perfect princess and queen that the enchanted forest had ever seen.


End file.
